I love the sound from the depths profound, When the Thunder-God is bringing His crystal showers, to the tinted flowers, In their sweet profusion springing. I love the lake in the mountain's lap; Without a flaw or error Recording the clouds, which the peaks enwrap, And the trees, as a crystal mirror; The wild delights of the mountain heights Thrill my breast with a keen devotion, As songbirds love the blue arch above, Or the mariner loves the ocean. THE BORDERLAND OF SLEEP On the margin of the mystic shores of rest, Where imagination mollifies the breast, Where the fondest dreams their pleasant vigils keep, In the vestibule of slumber, soft and deep, Lies a neutral zone, salubrious and sweet,-- Where the realms of lethargy and action meet,-- 'Tis the borderland of sleep. Here the halcyon delights float by and fade, Or the evil visions hover and invade; Here the bosom entertains its secret guest, With the silent plaint of agony suppressed, As unwelcome thoughts rise from the dust and mould, Of the vanished years in pantomime unrolled, In this borderland of rest. Neither wakeful, nor in sentient repose, Nor in apathy, complete and comatose; As when Lethe with her mild nepenthic surge, Doth in chaos of forgetfulness submerge, But a drowsy consciousness, a blend of dreams, With reality's extravagant extremes; Such the zone on slumber's verge. STELLAR NOCTURNE Speeds the day in silent flight, on the sombre wings of night, As the dying sunlight glimmers in the west; Soon the shadows cease to creep, for the sun has gone to sleep, And the scene is wrapped in somnolence and rest. From a solitary star, in the realms of space afar, Faintly twinkling through the shadows of the night, See the stellar force increased, till the scintillating east Seems a galaxy of constellations bright. With its glittering display, see the gorgeous Milky Way, Which in twain the vaulted universe divides, As the bridal veil serene of some fair celestial queen, Who, in jewelled state, o'er astral space presides. All the heavens seem in tune, and the vacillating moon Bathes the landscape with her floods of silvery light; Though the scenes of day are fair, naught in splendor can compare With the grandeur of the firmament at night. [Illustration: "High up on the cliffs in their dwellings, Which were apertures walled up with rocks, Lived this people, sequestered and happy; Their dwellings now serve the wild fox." _See page 121._] FATHER, AT THY ALTAR KNEELING Father, at Thy altar kneeling, Sin-defiled; Seeking there the balm of healing, To Thy Fatherhood appealing, See Thy child.